


We Must Do Something About Your Pay, Sebastian

by Hawkbringer



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Abrupt Ending, Blood Drinking, Bodily Fluids, Calm and apologetic Ciel Phantomhive, Ciel's demon-crack soul flavor, Demon Ciel Phantomhive, Demon Sebastian Michaelis, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Master/Servant, Possessive Sebastian Michaelis, Post-Canon, Sebastian abandons him, Supernatural Elements, a resetting of their master-slave relationship more or less, and after a good long while he comes back, anime season 2, awkwardly left-in japanese terminology, but he's still childish, he's learned his lesson, mention of demonic slaves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:01:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23267398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawkbringer/pseuds/Hawkbringer
Summary: Any demon who would abandon his contracted master surely has remuneration complaints. (anime-canon only, set post-season-two. Written 2013.)
Relationships: Sebastian Michaelis/Ciel Phantomhive
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	We Must Do Something About Your Pay, Sebastian

Ciel finds himself actually /happier/ as a demon, because now Sebastian can refuse him nothing - ever. Ciel now doesn't have to hold back - with /him./ With his desires, with his sinful impulses, with his desire for /Sebastian/. He recognizes that he has become a creature of sin, that there's no longer any reason to deny himself what he wants - he's no longer living for a higher cause, there's no point putting off pleasure anymore, no reason to delay or sublimate.... and Sebastian is totally subservient to him. Ciel has taken the official upper hand (except physically). He has /nothing/ left to lose - not even his soul. 

\----------

Or so he thought. Until the day Sebastian left him. 

So Ciel wanders aimlessly around Hell for a while, gives pints of his blood away for favors/human soul bits to keep himself alive - he /is/ aware that he still does/will always taste like fucking crack to demons - and is generally miserable until he's sitting in the corner of some pointless, forgotten courtyard, shivering and small and utterly pitiful, finding himself wavering on whether or not to crawl into a knot of once-human slave-souls and hide among them... just for the comfort of another /being/. When he finds himself thinking /that/, he sits up, straightens his posture, and pulls the eyepatch off his eye. 

[He's been wearing it again these days, ever since Sebastian's departure. It was no longer a sign of his high status - having somehow roped a fellow demon, an /equal/, into serving him forever without equal recompense - it had become a sign of the mockery that was Sebastian's morals, his damned /aesthetics/, a sign of Ciel's gullibility, to think that a contract was unbreakable.] 

"Sebastian, I need you. Come to me, now." He pauses only long enough for his eyes to flutter closed. "/Please./" 

When he opens them just a second later, a glove-clad hand hovers inches from his face - not threateningly, as it had, truly, every right to be - but in an offering pose, open, palm facing him, poised to help him stand. Ciel closes his eyes and bows his head in respect, but does not take it. 

It falls from his field of vision as he stands on his own, keeping his eyes on the ground, on the black heeled shoes before him. But once he is standing, proud and straight-backed, he goes to take a step and his legs respond too slowly, undeniably weakened from anemia and blood loss and what amounts to food poisoning for demons. 

(Of course the demons Ciel had leeched off of had had no compunctions about unloading their shittier souls on him, trading a lingering bad taste in their mouths for Ciel's sublime flavor. Quite a good deal, for them.) 

Unwilling or unable to catch himself, the white-gloved hand reappears, catching Ciel in the crook of an elbow, fingers of the other hand molding possessively around his too-thin shoulder. 

Ciel reflexively stiffens, but the hand only tightens, and Ciel can /smell/ his butler, feel his inhuman heat, and purposefully untenses as best he can, turning his face in towards Sebastian's chest as the demon himself curls his other hand around Ciel's thin body and holds him close, as though he regrets ever having left. 

Recalling with sudden clarity how long it has truly been since his butler last held him in his arms, Ciel jerks back and pulls one hand free. 

"You left me!" he screeches, raising his hand as if to slap his demon-butler across the face. Sebastian simply turns his head to the side, to avoid having his nose bruised by his tiny master's demon-powered fury. 

Ciel's hand connects with Sebastian's face, but oh so very gently. "I deserved that, I suppose," Ciel admits, softly stroking and fondling Sebastian's cheek and jaw. 

Sebastian's eyes fly open, at the kind touch and kinder words, and he dares not interrupt his master as Ciel continues, face impassive, (perhaps ignorant of the growing number of exclamation marks crowding the air above Sebastian's head,) "I've certainly not held up my end of the contract in terms of adequately repaying your efforts."

"I....You..." Sebastian could not form a whole sentence, not before Ciel effectively silenced him by sliding his wandering hand down to the base of Sebastian's neck and squeezing it in a shockingly intimate, brotherly manner that the older demon is sure Ciel would never have performed while living.

"We've really got to do something about that," Ciel continues conversationally, eyes not particularly focused on anything. "/I've/ really got to do something about that." He looks up then, focusing innocent and genuinely imploring eyes upon his butler's. "What can I offer you to ease the strain that eternal service to an ungrateful brat like me has placed you under?"

"Brat?! Bocchan, what..." 

Ciel steps back, puts his hands over Sebastian's forearms and commands, very simply, "First, take me home." 

Blinking furiously in confusion, brow furrowed adorably, Sebastian did as he was told. He scoops his young master up, settles his arms around his neck, then does a complicated set of motions with his wrists and fingers that immediately, without any sort of frills or fanfare, transports them home.

***

Ciel drops his feet to the floor and shuffles over to the nearest chair, wanting to take the weight off his feet, as he is truly exhausted. He tips his head back and sighs lustily. 

Not sure how to react, Sebastian reverts back to basics and inquires, "Shall I make you some hot milk, sir?" 

Ciel nods languidly and sighs as he answers. "Yes, please do, Sebastian." 

Deeply unsettled, Sebastian busies himself with the minor task of scrying for a sufficiently-fresh supply of milk over in the human world, siphoning it over from a cow's dripping udders and into a hastily-created copy of Ciel's favorite mug. Sebastian glances at the fire in the hearth, which stirs back to life momentarily, then sets the mug on the grate over the flames. He watches patiently for a few moments, and when he deems it warm enough, he gracefully lifts it off the grate and turns back to Ciel, who hasn't changed position at all - head thrown back with eyes closed, one arm resting on the arm of the chair, looking utterly content. The butler approaches and murmurs, "Your hot milk, sir," which makes his head lift slightly. 

The boy seems to go to some effort to move his own hand to accept the mug, and as he simply studies it, Sebastian simply waits. He simply waits, quite nervously, for punishment or dismissal or an order to kill himself - he has no idea what to expect. 

Ciel is silent until he drains the mug, which he then sets down on the table in a rare display of independence and tact.

"Sebastian, we absolutely must do something about your pay." 

Sebastian subtly flinches, aware that he shouldn't avoid the subject now that his master has brought it up, twice. "Is it... not to your liking, young master?" he ventures, not sure himself if he's talking about the milk Ciel just downed or the payment he's not sure he even wants. 

"Tch! No, not at all," Ciel scoffs at him. He rolls his head forward against the seatback, looking at Sebastian with mis-matched eyes that have seen too much. "Any servant that would abandon their master /clearly/ must have remuneration complaints." 

Before Sebastian could entirely process all the complicated words in that sentence, Ciel barks at him, "You left me because of some failure on my part. I /intend/ to correct it." 

Sebastian says nothing. 

"/Tell me/, Sebastian," the master stresses, but it's not an order. "If it is within my power to borrow, barter, or steal, I shall get it for you." Sebastian is rendered speechless but he does not raise his head, subservient to the last.

"I want you by my side, always," Ciel offers as his only explanation for this outrageous declaration. "No price is too high for that."

Sebastian's eyes flick up to his bocchan, his head still bowed. "/Any/ price, bocchan?" 

Ciel nods, more slowly than usual. "Anything at all. Just not my death, of course. I'm rather fond of this existence and would like to prolong it." He rolls his head forward again. "Would you like to acquire my parents as slaves? I'm sure my father's here, at least..." 

Sebastian's eyes widen in shock. "Bocchan! I would /not/....not your..."

"Mmm, very well. I will not press you to accept," Ciel decrees magnanimously. "But the offer stands, remember that."

Sebastian shakes his head, disgusted at the very thought. "Absolutely not. I would never..." Then he raises his head and grins with slightly pointed teeth "I would never need slaves to complete my daily tasks for you, bocchan. I am simply one hell of a butler, after all."

"Tch!" Ciel scoffs, but this time it sounds more like a laugh. "...Well," he adds after a beat, his tone indecisive. "Just, wake me when something interesting happens." 

Then he lifts his head and cracks one eye. "Or if you think of a price you would have me pay. Wake me from my sleep to tell me that." As he says it, his marked eye glows. 

"Haha," he continues mirthlessly. "'S not like I need it anyway." [It's true - demons don't /need/ sleep. It's rather more something of a hobby.] 

And with that, Ciel arranges himself more comfortably in the armchair by the fire, snuggles his face against the wingback, and drops off to sleep.

This leaves Sebastian in the unenviable position of standing stiff-backed in the middle of a nearly-bare room with absolutely no instructions but /to think/. He considers briefly whipping a bed for himself into existence and sleeping on it himself, and twitches his shoulders in self-recrimination. The young master should never have to sleep in a chair for lack of amenities! His butler is simply devilishly efficient, after all!

More grateful than he wants to examine at the moment for the momentary distraction, Sebastian busies himself with reappointing the room, placing a sumptuous four poster bed in the corner by the (ever-changing) illusiory window, a smaller one on the opposite side for himself, a standing armoire for his master's clothing, rugs for the bare floor, that sort of thing. 

Halfway through putting up curtains around the ever-changing window, Sebastian hears his master groan, and is at his side in an instant. Ciel wakes himself up perfectly ably, but smiles to see Sebastian standing in his field of vision. He chuckles over the new and lavish furnishings, though he frowns at one particular table and attempts to make it change shape solely with the power of his thoughts. Sebastian lifts one eyebrow and questions tremulously, "My...lord?"

Ciel sighs, disappointed, and breaks off his staring contest with the end table. "I was...attempting to change its shape...with my will alone," he explains in a murmur, not looking at Sebastian, his face heating slightly. It is a truly adorable sight and Sebastian fails to contain the nearly lovesick look of relief and gratification at having his little lordling back in his possession. 

And possession is the right word, isn't it? Sebastian mulls over in his mind. His service, for his soul...

"I have thought of a way you might...repay me, master," Sebastian blurts out, eyes dropping as Ciel's head jerks up.

"Any price. Name it. I want you here forever, Sebastian. Or at least as long as we both should live." Sebastian shivers at the nearness of the phrase.

"That will be quite a long time, young master, you have no idea." He pauses, puts a finger to his lips, and states, "Well, I have no idea, either. The Supreme Powers may decide at any moment to end all of existence, for good." He smiles, then, as though he has simply no cares in all the worlds. "Well, there's no use pondering about /that/, is there?"

"Indeed not," Ciel replies gravely, shifting his body to alleviate sore muscles. He has learned, in the long, uncounted span of days without Sebastian, that immortal status does not grant one the freedom from pain. Perhaps if he had been made an angel... "You said you had thought of a way, Sebastian. I want to hear it."

"Ah," Sebastian looks down and to the side, keeping his face from coloring by sheer force of will alone. "Well, young master, it...appears that... in your time separated from me... your soul has not lost its force of flavor."

Ciel snorts. "Indeed not. It was preserved, I imagine, at the moment of, hm, conversion." 

Sebastian nods. "I have heard of no case like it. But, then again, I have heard of no case like yours, before /you/." 

Restless, Ciel cuts in across Sebastian's gushing. "I know it hasn't changed flavor because I fed my blood to other demons. They fed me a few souls in return." The confession hangs starkly in the air like a circling vulture. "To...to stay alive," he says quietly. 

Sebastian kneels before his lord, and takes Ciel's chin very gently in his hand. "You will never have to engage in such a trade ever again, if it is not your wish. /I/ will feed you from now on, young master. I will teach you all you need to know, to survive, to thrive, to /enjoy/ your existence, even if you will never again know peace." His face is so very open, so very pleading, it makes Ciel wonder if Sebastian has reneged on their agreement that he should never lie, or if those months, years, days apart had taken a toll on his erstwhile butler as well.

"No one serves another for nothing. Name your price, Sebastian Michaelis." 

Sebastian's cheeks perk up as he smiles again. "A /taste/ of your soul, bocchan, which I can get in oh, so many ways." He opens his eyes and eagerly searches Ciel's for any hint of acceptance or disgust.

Ciel's mouth sours at how willing his powerful butler is to demean himself, to roll over and show his belly, for so very little in return. "Tch! Have a little pride, Sebastian! You serve the former head of the Phantomhive House, after all!"

Sebastian rises only to bow at the waist with one hand over his heart. "I will never forget that, my young lord."

For several minutes, Sebastian holds that pose and Ciel simply observes him, lets him sweat a little, fear a little, over what he is going to say next. "Very good, Sebastian. Now," he continues, folding his legs and fingers in his imperious lecturing-while-seated pose, "You said you wish only for tastes of my soul, is that correct?"

"Yes, my lord," Sebastian replies, a bit too slowly, as though he relishes every syllable. /Pervert,/ Ciel thinks. /Gets off on submitting to me. Well, he is a demon. As am I now. Hm.../

"Inform me of the ways this can be done. I know of bloodletting, and I assume consumption of my flesh would do, as my soul's taste is likely embedded in the meat---"

"Oh, bocchan, I would never wish to injure you so!" Sebastian's hand has not left his heart, and his head is tilted, eyebrows furrowed, in a perfect parody of sorrow. [He does not /feel/ it - he merely relishes the chance to /perform/, under such stringent circumstances for such a demanding audience - a game he has not participated in for far too long now. His relief at being back in bondage, his giddiness to serve his demanding little master again - /these/ emotions are not faked.] "Yes, there are other ways to let me taste your magnificence."

"Such as?" Ah, that raised eyebrow! So much more imperious now without the muffling presence of black silk beneath it. 

"What I wish to ask of you, bocchan, no one in life has ever asked of you, so it will likely be quite shocking," he attempts to warn his lord.

Ciel is getting impatient, increasingly suspicious that Sebastian is playing some sort of peep-show game to heighten his anticipation - whose, he does not know. "Tch! I'll take my chances. Must I order you to tell me?"

"Mmm, yes, I think you should," Sebastian demurs, his voice dropping several notes as he places a finger beside his lips. "It has been so long since I felt your pure will washing over me. Perhaps I have forgotten how it feels?"

"Pervert!" Ciel accuses, glancing beside him and reining in the impulse to throw his favorite mug. "This is an order, Sebastian! Tell me what you want from me!"

Sebastian's eyes flash with fire and he chuckles, turning it into a drawn-out moan. When his blissfully-closed eyes open and find Ciel's again, they are still demonic, flaming slits. "I want to taste you, my little lord. I want to taste your flavor on my tongue. To touch you with it... Lick you, suck you, make you moan. /Oh,/ how I want to swallow your cum, bocchan, /how/ I do!"

Utterly stunned, Ciel's eyes flash into slits, the contract-mark obscured by the brightness. He cannot speak, cannot think, hadn't imagined in 115 years that /this/ was what Sebastian wanted from him. "....Some kind of incubus?" he murmurs, not aware he speaks aloud.

"Ahah! Hardly, Young Master. All demons are creatures of sin and temptation, by our very natures! And you are, in fact, no exception." He smiles, slow and full of promise, and drops to his knees, placing his hands on Ciel's knees and pressing.

"Mmpf! What? Do you intend to start now!?"

"Why, Master, we've hardly any more pressing business, now, do we?" 

"Ugh..." Still red-faced, Ciel turns his head away as Sebastian's fingers slide inexorably up his thighs, gripping when they meet his hips. Sebastian then buries his face into his little master's crotch, huffing against the tiny lump of his flaccid cock. Ciel squirms as Sebastian's nose rubs against the crook of his leg, ticklish.

**Author's Note:**

> I'M SO SORRY IT ENDS SO ABRUPTLY. T_T Feel free to adopt the characters as they are to give them a nice 'happy ending' and maybe some plot? I am horrible at plots, I was probably going to end this fic with them both falling asleep together after Sebastian had an orgasm just from the taste of Ciel's demon-crack-flavored cum.
> 
> Written 13th of april 2013, second half added to 5th of may 2015, posted here with very little editing. //'s indicate italics.


End file.
